


Azure Temple

by Loupmont



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autopsies, Burning alive, Cannibalism, Cults, Drugging, F/F, Gore, Gun Violence, Homicide, M/M, Mass Suicide, Multi, Poisoning, dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-01-05 13:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21209222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loupmont/pseuds/Loupmont
Summary: Linhardt and Hanneman investigate the aftermath of the Azure Temple, a cult led by Sylvain. Linhardt discovers he has a gift that helps unravel the mysteries surrounding the Azure Temple.





	1. Hubert von Vestra

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first chapter of Azure Temple. I tried my best with this, and I hope you'll all like it.

"Dr. von Essar! The bodies keep piling up! I'll never catch a wink of sleep at this rate."

"Quiet, von Hevring. Change into a new gown and scrub up. We have a lot to do."

Dr. von Essar, otherwise known as Hanneman, emotionlessly slipped on a pair of gloves. As the chief medical examiner, he was assigned to this huge mess. This massacre. This utter waste of human life. His faithful assistant, Linhardt von Hevring, drowsily went over the notes of the case before he had to scrub up.

"A cult. The only information here is that it was led by one Sylvain Jose Gautier, who went by Father Jose, Reverend Jose, or Saint Sylvain. The cult originally was based in Faerghus, but he took some of them to Sreng."

Hanneman rolled in the first gurney, hefting the dead weight onto the table. This first body had messy black hair, chartreuse eyes, and was paler than most dead people. It had already been stripped naked, save for a modesty cloth placed over the genitals and a tag dangling from the right big toe.

"That's…" Linhardt gasped, even through his sleepiness, "That's Hubert von Vestra, one of our senators. What is he doing here?"

Hanneman laid out his various metallic implements, "He was found at the border between Faerghus and Sreng. He intended to investigate the cult, since some of the Empire's people have been sucked into it. He ended up being killed there."

Linhardt put away the case notes, pulled his hair into a messy bun, and tucked it all into a surgical cap. Then, he gowned and gloved up. He was first tasked with accounting for all of the victim's personal effects.

"One wallet, black leather. White dress shirt. Black loafers, size 8 men's. Kevlar vest. Grey trousers. Gold pocket watch. Holster with revolver. Ammunition and casings for said revolver. Man, I went to school with him. He and his husband got married a couple years ago; they were high school sweethearts. I wonder how Ferdinand's holding up, knowing his partner got killed."

"Focus, Linhardt. Here, weigh these organs."

Hanneman worked quickly, being able to extract all the necessary thoracoabdominal organs en bloc, then further separating them in under a half an hour. Linhardt first grasped the slippery liver, which sloshed like firm jello into the scale. He jotted down the weight in his notebook, then got to work with the others. He passed his notebook to Hanneman when he finished.

"These are within normal limits", Hanneman remarked. "Not surprising, given how straight-laced he was. Alright, here's his brain."

Same process of weighing and taking notes. Except that the brain was a fatty, mangled mess.

"Brain weight in life was most likely normal but the sustained injuries makes it hard to say", Linhardt noted, punctuating with a yawn.

"Right. I'll grab samples of his organs for toxicology. Looks to me like he died from a shot to the head, causing massive injuries to his brain, causing death. Manner of death is homicide, as the angle of the shot and lack of gunpowder residues would make a self-inflicted wound impossible."

\--

"What do you mean he's dead?! He was just going to Sreng for an investigation!"

Ferdinand threw himself to the floor, at the man's feet. Tears scorched his cheeks, tracing their saline paths. He gasped, choked. The phlegm prevented him from croaking out more words.

"I'm sorry, Mr. von Aegir. If you need anything, we have several grief counselors on hand for this particular incident. It was…rather horrific to say the least."

Ferdinand did not respond other than with shudders and croaked sobs. His stomach hurt from all the heaving, his eyes bloodshot from being unable to breathe without strain. Hubert was dead, and so was his whole world. A significant other completing someone was most likely an awful cliché created to explain the heart-gripping feelings one got while in love, but in that moment, Ferdinand's heart felt as if someone sliced it in twain with the bluntest saw they could find.

"Hey, up here."

He didn't recognize the burly, tow-headed man in front of him. Was this the therapist? He looked more teddy bear than man.

"Name's Raphael. You must be Ferdinand, Hubert's husband."

Ferdinand finally rose to his feet, snorting back the accumulating mucus, "Y-yes. I'm Ferdinand von Aegir, nice to meet you."

Raphael cocked his head, having to bite back his tongue about his opinions of the decedent, "I can see you aren't holding up so well. What can I do for you today?"

"I just…need to talk."

\--

Exhausted, with an hour to spare before the next body would be brought in, Linhardt stretched out on the chesterfield in the break room. If Linhardt ever dreamed, it was usually in greys or dull sepia. It was different this time.

Before him was the dull grey and white of late winter Sreng, but it did not feel nearly as cold. The snow gently falling on his outstretched hand quickly melted, leaving vaguely wet patches. It was then he noticed that the hand in front of him was bony, gaunt.

"Am I…"

He fumbled around his shirt, finding one on the right. He didn't have a shirt with a pocket there. Inside was a polished gold pocket watch, the name Vestra etched around the pinwheel design's spokes. Even in the fog of dreams, he was able to piece two and two together. He checked the time on the watch, 2:03 PM.

A crackle snapped Linhardt back to the task at hand. He groped for the revolver in the holster, shakily loading it with rounds. The waking world Linhardt never so much as fired a starter pistol, let alone a weapon, yet he knew exactly what to do. This one held five rounds. One two three four five, a bullet to a chamber.

He came to one more realization - he wasn't actually controlling this dream, nor could he take control. He was watching a movie through the eyes of a soon-to-be-dead protagonist. He was unable to wake up, to stop this doomed film. That simple act of checking a watch ensured that Hubert lived for a little while longer, that he was able to find the would-be sniper and return fire.

Linhardt was railroaded into watching Hubert search over an hour for the shooter, finding him ducking in the bushes, and emptying his revolver into the man. He had to watch as Hubert forgot to ensure the young, freckled man was dead. He watched Hubert rush back to the helicopter awaiting him, only to suddenly feel burning at the back of his head.

That burn was what woke Linhardt up. He checked the wall clock above the kitchenette, which read 6:54. He woke up just in time to see Hanneman enter the break room for a quick cup of tea.

"Did we manage to find Hubert's killer?" Linhardt mumbled as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Hanneman shook his head, "No such luck."

"We never got a slate-haired man with freckles? Have the investigators on-scene search a kilometer west of the helicopter landing site."

"Wait, what? Linhardt..."

"He is lying dead one kilometer west of where the helicopter landed. He has freckles, gray hair, and green eyes."

Hanneman's mouth dropped as he reached for the off-white landline phone in the break room. "How did you know that?"

Linhardt shrugged, "I saw it all in my dreams." Only in that moment did it finally sink in that it sounded ridiculous.

"Stop fooling around. We have other bodies to dissect." Hanneman tapped his foot, "Young people today, I swear!" Just as he turned to walk out of the room, his pager went off. Another body had been discovered, which would take priority over the next that was in queue. He never paid attention to whether Linhardt was following him as he deliberately wound his way through the sterile halls.

In front of him was the door to Autopsy Room 2, where the page had indicated that the body would be. He pushed it open, curious as to who it would be. As he flicked on the cold blue fluorescent lights, his blood froze - the body was that of a young man with gray hair and green eyes. Moving closer, he could see that the man had freckles on his smooth skin.

"Ah, is that who we're doing next?"

Hanneman turned around, "I'll ask you not to phrase it like that again. Yes, this is the body they pulled off site. According to the paper work, this man was found…right where you said the man would be found." His eyes widened, "How did you know this?"

Linhardt shrugged again, "Just saw it in my dreams."


	2. Ashe Ubert

"What does the toe tag say his name is?"

Linhardt squinted, "Ashe Ubert. Confirmed via driver's license."

"Are the autopsy forms and requisition in the plastic folder?"

"Shouldn't you be checking this yourself, von Essar? They are-"

Hanneman snapped back, "Don't sass me, boy. I'm the head coroner here. You do as I say." He reached for the packet, finding it wet. "What happened here?"

"As I was about to say, the packet got soaked in the decedent's urine."

Hanneman recoiled, then shoved the wet papers at Linhardt, "You handle these, then. How the hell did these get soaked?"

Linhardt looked away sheepishly, "I…botched the cystocentesis. I am sorry."

"Botched? How did you botch something so simple?" Hanneman was pissed, to say the least.

Linhardt pulled back the sheet on the corpse, "See how he has no modesty cloth? He was rather immodest in death. Didn't help that he died face down, so all his blood pooled to the front. The actual extraction went fine, but when I pulled everything out and poured it in the cup, I bumped my hand on it." He motioned to Ashe's angel lust, "It's surprisingly hard."

"Short, too."

Linhardt gasped, "I never thought you to comment on that. But yes, rather short. So, my hand jostled enough that the sample spilled. First time I dealt with a corpse with a terminal erection."

"You're going to see a couple more by the time the day is out. Better get used to it." Hanneman laughed, "This one's a quick autopsy. We can clearly see the bullet wounds. Five, all in the torso."

Linhardt rolled his eyes, "We have to find out where they hit. Don't make me weigh the organs again, please. Hubert's liver was nauseating enough, and his is clean."

Hanneman cocked an eyebrow, "Why did you get into this line of work if it nauseates you so much?"

"I followed you here. Followed Caspar, too. You because you're like a hero to me. Caspar because, well, I love him. He's a detective, but I wanted to be on this side of things to support him."

"How is Caspar, anyway?"

Linhardt frowned, "No idea. I haven't been able to reach him since he went to Sreng."

Hanneman adjusted his glasses, smearing gore on the bridge. "Oh. I…I'm sorry. I hope he returns soon."

"Me too. He must be so terrified by what we had to deal with."

"We have so many remains that we haven't been able to identify. Some of them have been picked clean of all their flesh."

"What? That can mean only one thing, especially if there are certain marks on the bones. We should look at some of those remains after Ashe, just to confirm my suspicions."

Hanneman raised an eyebrow, "What do you suspect happened?"

Linhardt swallowed, "Cannibalism. I really, really did not want to say that word."

"Well, we can take a look after this one. Makes me wonder why that would happen."

"Simply put, Sreng is horrible for plant life and anything that lives off of it. They had to do this. They were starving."

\--

"Thank you again, Raphael. I am forever in your debt."

Raphael grinned, "Not a problem. This is what I do for a living; I could not find anything else half as rewarding as this for work."

The phone rang. Ferdinand scrambled to answer it, "Hello? Yes, he's still here. Alright. Here, Raphael. It's the morgue."

"The morgue? Uhh…" Raphael took the receiver, "Hello? Speaking. Yeah I just finished with... Oh. Oh…oh no." As the phone call progressed, Raphael slowly showed more distress. Ferdinand wondered what was going on, but he would get no answer to that.

"Alright. Bye."

Raphael bolted out the door as soon as he hung up the phone. No farewell for Ferdinand, nothing. He got some news that he absolutely did NOT need to hear, and he had to get to his car before the torrent of tears commenced.

"Ignatz…no…"

Over the years, he had been there for others as they needed to cry. Although he could never piece their souls back together, he helped others move on as best as they could. Now? He needed that himself. Raphael turned the keys in the ignition, trying to remember where he could find the nearest pay phone.

\--

"Let me nap for a bit before we start the next set, please", Linhardt begged. 

"Well, I can allow you a couple hours. We have to wait for the ID team to identify a set of bones that came in." Hanneman turned to leave the room, "Have a good nap!"

"Thanks", Linhardt yawned. He reclined on the chesterfield lounge, placing the decorative pillow under his head.

This time, as he was dreaming, he was inside a rough thatch and cane hut. Something ached, but he was unable to place what was aching. But, he knew immediately that he was Ashe.

"Hey, Ashe. This is our final day together."

Ashe turned, facing a redhead who wore an open dress shirt, khaki slacks, and a bear skin draped over his shoulders. A raven-haired man hung off of his left arm, completely naked aside from a gold chain with multiple jewels loosely hanging from his waist.

"Sylvain..."

So this was the monster behind the Azure Temple, a beast in human skin. Fittingly, wearing a beast skin. Which was truly Sylvain?

"Felix, go fetch the lube and condoms. Time for one last fuck before we send him to kill von Vestra." He unzipped his pants to punctuate the sentence.

"Wait, what?"

"You're going to kill Hubert von Vestra. He wants to investigate us, and he might reach us before we all die. We need you to go get him, then escape. We need you to seed us anew once the heat dies down."

Sylvain fished around his throne of human bones, finding a small leather pocket. Inside was a small blue pyramid.

"Swallow this, Ashe. Resurrect our cause for a fair world."

Ashe grasped the leather pouch, which easily fit in his palm. He swallowed the pouch with some difficulty after Sylvain handed him a cup of water.

"You now carry the seed of our future."

Felix scurried off to the closet, rummaged around, and found the condoms and lubricant. He eagerly brought the items back, slavishly pumping the shaft of Sylvain's cock until it was firm enough for him to slip a condom on. Then he bathed it all in lube.

"That's perfect, Felix", Sylvain moaned, "Sit on me, Ashe. Sit on my cock. Come and please Papa Jose."

This was sick. Linhardt would be traumatized for the rest of his life by what he saw here. Yet he found himself to be aroused by the pure primal energy emanating from Sylvain.

Ashe sauntered toward Sylvain, then hopped onto his lap. The lubricated head pushed past his sphincter easily, the shaft shoving deep inside him.

"Felix, kiss him. Put all your love into it."

Felix deeply kissed Ashe, his breath tasting of something chemical.

"He just had his medicine, don't mind the taste."

Ashe bounced on the shaft, still kissing Felix. Both men produced loud, erotic moans as they began to touch each other. Ashe grasped a handful of Felix's ass cheek, squeezing the mound of well-muscled flesh. 

Linhardt wanted to leave. He tried to will himself to wake up, but he was stuck. He wondered why he had to sit through this.

Ashe's erection flopped with every thrust until Felix finally took it into his mouth.

"Doesn't that feel good, Ashe?"

Indeed it did. Felix had the softest, warmest mouth he could ever imagine. Every thrust was slick, hot, and oh so tight. Having his prostate battered by Sylvain helped, too.

"Y-yes! Ah!"

Embarrassing - he already had to cum. Sylvain held Ashe down as he released hot, sticky loads into Felix's waiting mouth. Yet, even after cumming, Ashe was not allowed to leave. Sylvain held him firmly, thrusting deeply. Felix, having done his job, waited patiently for Sylvain to finish.

"Don't worry, my sweet Felix. I have some for you, too. I am a god, after all."

A god. Did Linhardt hear that right? He continued to watch, in a state between disgust and desire.

Not long after, Sylvain finally released. He grunted, shooting deep into Ashe's ass. The redhead forced Ashe to his feet after he had finished, then shoved a long, cold object into his hands.

"Use this to kill him. I'm counting on you."

The object was a sniper rifle. Wood grain was entirely non-existent, or well-disguised by a fantastic paint job that looked like metal. Taped to the butt was a box of ammunition, the cardboard squashed against the rounds.

"Go", Sylvain commanded coldly.

Linhardt blinked. Was he awake? It took a minute to realize that yes, he was on the chesterfield. The smooth, cool leather felt good on his skin. It took him a minute to also perceive the aching erection tenting his scrub pants. Disturbed to say the least that he would be like this from the last memories of a dead man, Linhardt hesitated to do anything about it. He tried to flood his mind with the most un-sexy images he could think of: nuns, dead animals, his grandparents. Nothing worked, so he had to take care of this the old-fashioned way with a good wank.

Linhardt scanned the room, finding a phone closet in the corner. He rushed inside, then locked it. Dark and private, it was just the place to assure him that he wouldn't be caught. He wondered if he should have brought in some paper towels or tissues, but he couldn't be bothered to go now.

"Masturbating to a dead man's thoughts is really improper. Must think of something else", Linhardt whispered to himself. He lowered his scrub bottoms, then eased a hand under his underwear's waistband. He allowed his thoughts to wander to Caspar, to the fun they used to have. Linhardt palmed his cock, remembering the time Caspar pinned him to a desk and fucked him with a strap-on.

"Caspar!" Linhardt uttered, bucking into his hand.

It was at this time that he wished he had a toy to use inside him. To his credit, he had no idea that he would be seeing the last thoughts and memories of dead people, or that some of them would be sexual. His orgasm quickly approached, warmth and euphoria enveloping him. He remembered how his ass throbbed and gripped the toy that Caspar used inside him, his ass now clenching in the exact same way. He had been so wrapped up in his bliss that he didn't hear whoever came into the break room and approached the phone booth. He was startled out of his orgasm by a knock.

"Hello? Anyone using this?"

Linhardt hurriedly raised his scrub pants, then opened the door. "Yes, what do you- Hanneman!"

"Ah yes, I was looking for you. I was about to call your house because I thought you went home. Listen, the ID team has discovered the identification of the first set of bones found on-site. It's time for us to take a look at them and see what we can find. I know I said a couple hours, but this is urgent."

Linhardt groaned, "I thought I could go back to sleep. I guess not."

He exited the booth, following Hanneman to the autopsy room. This time, it would be held in Autopsy Room 4. He already felt tired. He also wondered how the Srengese could afford a hospital with multiple autopsy rooms.

"Who's our victim?"


	3. Claude von Riegan

Hanneman hummed as he perused the chart, “This pile of bones was the son of a foreign diplomat, Claude von Riegan. He'd been missing for months; funny he should turn up here, in Sreng.”

“I only vaguely knew him”, Linhardt mused, “Shame. He was beautiful when I last saw him, and now? Now he's only a skeleton. Oh, by the way, did we check the last decedent's stomach?”

“Funny you should mention that. I found that the upper intestine was a bit heavier than I anticipated, so I opened it. Found a-”

“Small leather pouch with a blue pyramid inside.”

“Let me guess”, Hanneman grinned, “You saw it in your dream?”

“Yes, yes I did”, Linhardt answered, “I saw that he swallowed something. That exact thing. Sylvain, the cult leader, told him it was the 'seed' to a new future or something.”

“Seed to a new future, huh? Was that Sylvain's goal? To start a new world?” Hanneman pondered the new information as he picked up a femur, “Why? Why start a new world?”

“I didn't get far enough to know his precise motives”, Linhardt answered regrettably, “He never said.”

“Maybe in another dream, you will find that out. Speaking of your dreams, there is an investigator that Hubert knew that believes that you have a gift. We will exclusively be speaking with her about this, and she can present the information in a way that's more easily believed by others. The Azure Temple Inquiry Board will not take dreams as valid evidence, after all. Even if your dreams are prophetic.”

Linhardt nervously swallowed, “This doesn't seem like a good idea. We should be finding concrete evidence using my dreams, not weaving an elaborate but fake investigation.”

“What others don't know won't hurt them. Besides, your dreams are 100% accurate.”

Linhardt balked, “I don't want to be part of a web of lies, even if the result is the same or better.”

“Who else will hire you? You're a medical examiner's apprentice, and it would look really bad on you if you were fired by the only person willing to take you on.”

Linhardt quickly shut his mouth. He was unwilling to allow his education to go to waste, even if it was being used in a dishonest way.

“Thought so. Now, you said you know what may have happened if you saw some marks on the bones. Do you see the marks?”

Linhardt examined the bones carefully, “Yes. See the tibia and fibula here? These fractures near the top aren't fractures. These bones were sawed. There are teeth indentations along the left ulna, radius, and humerus. In fact, these teeth marks are on almost every bone. Even the skull has been opened. They ate this man's brain.”

“Savages. Every last one of them are savages of the highest order.”

“Keep in mind that Sreng is bad for agriculture of any kind. They likely had no choice.”

“Sounds like you're becoming sympathetic to them, Linhardt.”

Linhardt stammered, “Well, I'm trying to be neutral about this. Calling them monsters won't help our cause.”

“While true, we should still keep in mind that they brought pain and misery to many, even within their own circle.”

Linhardt sighed, resigning himself to not winning any argument with Hanneman. That was the thing he hated about this codger – he was certain that Hanneman thought anyone younger was an idiot or worse. “Back to the autopsy, it looks like there's a hole in the top portion of the skull. This may be what killed him, but we can't be certain since all his flesh is gone. Looks like the only thing we can determine is that he was intentionally killed.”

Hanneman jotted down Linhardt's thoughts, “You'll soon be ready to do your own autopsies.”

\--

Raphael fumbled with the coins in his pocket, finding the exact 25 cents he needed for the call.

“Hilda Goneril, grief counselling, how may I help you?”

Raphael, barely able to speak, managed to say two words: “Ignatz died”.

“Raph? Is that you? Come to my office immediately. Wait, I'll pick you up. Where are you?”

“Coleman's.”

“I'm coming. Hold tight.”

Raphael didn't bother to hang up the phone, which emitted an awful tone once Hilda hung up. He curled up on the rank pavement, his nose assaulted by piss that had been there for at least a day. This truck-stop, so rough, was where people down on their luck would hang out and gamble away what little they had for the chance of more. This was the site of murders, suicides, drug deals, and other illicit activities. Yet, he laid himself bare to the world as he sobbed, pleaded with the goddess to bring Ignatz back to him.

Hilda pulled up in her pink convertible, seeing the sorry lump that was Raphael.

“Hey, Raph! I'm here.”

She didn't want to leave her car, so she honked her horn twice to get his attention. It worked, and he slowly lumbered over to her.

“Hilda, I'm so glad you're here.”

Hilda eyed him, “We're gonna get you bathed before we talk. A bath does the body good.”

\--

Linhardt hissed, “Let me nap!”

“Alright, alright. Go and take a nap. You better tell me everything you know afterwards.”

“I will I will”, Linhardt replied. He angrily tossed himself onto the chesterfield and blinked off into a fitful sleep, which only lasted for a few minutes. In those few minutes, he still saw enough to be useful.

As he predicted in his mind, he was now in the body of Claude von Riegan. Terrified, tied up, shuddering against his bonds. Cold dread poured down, freezing him in place other than the occasional tremors. People gathered around him, holding knives and saws. He attempted to speak, but a bloody cloth was shoved in his mouth.

There he was. The redhead in the bearskin. Saint Sylvain. Papa Jose. He held a chainsaw, which he revved up inches from Claude's terrified face. The acrid, chemical smell of gasoline and smoke was clear despite this only being a dream. His limbs were tied with tourniquets, so tight that the pressure threatened to rip them open.

“Don't want him to die before we've harvested everything.”

Claude's heart raced, the pounding was strong even in his ears. Lightheaded, he felt as if he was about to pass out. He wished he would. It would be better than feeling his limbs hacked apart. The goddess wasn't merciful.

“Time for dinner!”

That voice was familiar. Linhardt could not place it right then and there – it was a dream after all. Then, he woke up with terror sweat soaking his forehead.

“Oh, that was quick”, Hanneman remarked, “How was it?”

“Nothing useful, I'm afraid.” Linhardt tried to be as dispassionate as possible, but the horror leaked through in his voice. “What I saw was just as I suspected – Claude was eaten. Looked like he was literally eaten alive. There was a voice though, somebody I couldn't see but it sounded familiar.”


	4. Ignatz Victor

“Who's our vic?”

“Ignatz.”

Lysithea von Ordelia, as sick as she was, still stood at the autopsy table whilst quivering and coughing. She looked to her assistant, Leonie Pinelli.

“So, this death is very suspicious. It was initially ruled a suicide, but I'm not so sure. Take a look at his wounds.”

Her words echoed from the metallic walls, carrying her somewhat quiet voice. She pointed to odd carvings in his arms and torso.

“I recognize these runes – they are ancient Adrestian. He might know them, but he had no reason to carve them into his skin. His entire body is also bloodless. Couldn't even get enough to get chems or a CBC”.

Leonie grew pale as she lifted Ignatz's almost transparent arm, “You're right. Who do you think did this?”

Lysithea shrugged, “I don't know. You're the one who found him, you're the one who would have a better idea.”

“Hey, I thought it was a suicide.”

“It's been clear that he's been dead for days. There's some decomp.”

“What's this?” Leonie pointed to a pinprick on the neck.

Lysithea examined the small hole, “That...I think that's a needle mark. That might be where his blood was taken out – I don't see any other possible way the blood was drained”. She coughed again, blood smearing on the sleeve of her scrubs. “I'm sorry, Leonie. I'm not feeling well”. She continued her examination of the body.

“It's okay, Lys. I think we're done here. It's very clear that his blood had been drained.”

“Yeah. I'll just write it up in the log.”

Lysithea recorded the pertinent information in Ignatz's file, then sat down. Her head spun from having to stand and being ill.

“Should we tell Raph? Or do we make up some bullshit story for him?”

“We tell him the truth”, Lysithea insisted, “He deserves to know. Who of us is going to tell him?”

“I will”, Leonie volunteered, “I have a little more tact than you. No offense”. She walked to the phone, dialing Raphael's pager. She turned around when she heard shrieking.

“Lys?! Lys!”

The white-haired woman was curled onto the floor, not breathing and bloodied.

“Lysithea! Wake up!” Leonie turned Lysithea onto her back, but stopped all intervention as she observed a hole in her chest. The same type of hole appeared in Ignatz's abdomen, gnawed and chewed open by something. Taking matters into her own hands, Leonie grasped her pocket knife and opened Lysithea's body.

Inside, there was a dark pearlescent mass nestled near her pericardium. When she poked it with her knife, it unrolled itself like an armadillo. The cruciform head terminated in a sharp beak, shaped not unlike the tusk of a narwhal. The rest of the body was segmented, much like a millipede.

What. The. Fuck.

She resolved to go back to Ignatz's home, where he was found. There had to be some clue that she was missing. First, she had to deal with this...thing. Stabbing it would do no good, as the knife bounced off of the chitinous exoskeleton. She unholstered her firearm, unloading a full clip into the creature. Once she was sure it was dead, she scooped it up into the palm of her hand. The limp creature hung from each side of her hand, blue blood dripping down. She suddenly dropped the carcass when her hand started to burn, the flesh melting where the blue liquid touched. In vain, she attempted to wash it off, but it kept eating away. 

She had to shove aside her plans to go to the emergency room. While she was at it, she had to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why Lysithea was cut open on the morgue floor.

\--

“Well, we'll give the morgue a call to see what's up. Knowing how your friend died may bring you closure. Do you know where they called from?”

“They called from Derdriu General Hospital.”

“Let's give them a call.”

Hilda shoved the phone toward Raphael, who dialed the number as rapidly as his sausage-like fingers could manage. No answer.

“No one's picking up, Hilda.”

“Try the main switchboard.”

Raphael grabbed the phone book from Hilda's bookshelf, dialing the number he found.

“Derdriu General Hospital, main switchboard, how may I help you?”

“This is Raphael Kiersten. I'm trying to get a hold of the morgue, but no one's answering.”

“May I put you on hold? There's a situation here.”

Click.

That wasn't a hold. The receptionist hung up. A situation? Raphael did not understand. He looked to Hilda, still glowering.

“The switchboard hung up on me.”

“What? That's...that's just weird. Let's check this out – there's no way that there's no information about Ignatz. You drive this time, I'm tired. Please?”

Raphael flexed his muscles, “Sure, Hilda!”


	5. Bernadetta von Varley

"This is Bernadetta. I knew her, too.”

Linhardt, exhausted, slogged through the numerous pages of paperwork that accompanied the charred corpse. DNA tests were the only way which she could be identified, as the body was reduced to ash and bone.

“Why would they burn her? Wouldn't they have eaten her instead?” Hanneman inquired.

“Who said they didn't?” Linhardt bent over to write in the log, “They might have just burned these remains. Though, they left enough tissue that the corpse is somewhat intact.”

Hanneman prodded the exposed, blackened rib cage. “What is this?” He pried one of the ribs out, noting a groove. “That came out rather easily. I believe this may be a surgical artifact, very recent.”

“Recent surgery in the chest. Look at the remains of the lung! It's...blue? Literally blue.”

Linhardt attacked the tissue with a scalpel, cutting away the nearly neon cerulean tissue. He pulverized the tissue in a test tube with chemicals, then packed it for transport to the laboratory.

\--  
KQLRZTNLRMBTGX  
\--

Raphael and Hilda drove to Derdriu General Hospital, not fully prepared for what was in store. As soon as they entered through the doors, they saw Leonie with a hand burned away by acid and the wrist of the other bound with handcuffs.

“Leonie!” Raphael exclaimed, running over as quickly as he could.

“Raph! Hilda! I'm glad you're here!” Leonie released the tension in her shoulders, “They apprehended me for an impromptu autopsy on Lysithea after one of those beasts...burrowed inside her.”

“Beasts?” Hilda was only puzzled for a second before she screamed. “GET AWAY FROM ME!”

There were more. The same cruciform heads, the same pearlescent lustre to their black chitin. They scuttled on their multitude of legs toward the group, hissing and clicking.

“Stay back!” Leonie brandished her firearm once more after loading another clip into it. She shot at the creatures that kept crawling forward, stopping some dead in their tracks.

Unfortunately, that wasn't enough. Finally in shock from her injuries, Leonie collapsed. One of the creatures advanced on her, burrowing into her abdomen like one of them presumably had with Ignatz. She convulsed five times before she lay still, a trace of blood emerging from her lips.

“Raph! Run!” Hilda grabbed the stunned man's hand and pulled him along.

\--  
GGUHNOCQHFOFLKSBVCEWFNDQGT   
\--

Linhardt went back to the chesterfield with Hanneman's blessing. His skin kissed by the smooth, cool leather, he knew his dream would be anything but comfortable. He was once again in the barren, cold wasteland of Sreng. This time, he was in the body of Bernadetta von Varley. Two women stood beside her, both with bandaged chests. Her own chest was also bandaged.

“Run! Dorothea! Petra! They're coming!”

Bernadetta panicked, shoving her two lovers out of the thatch hut.

“Run! I'll distract them!”

A stampede of guards stormed toward her, armed. She was also armed – she managed to nab one of the semi-auto rifles that had been smuggled into Sreng by the Temple. She fired into the crowd, managing to kill several of the guards. She ducked behind the desk in the hut, coming out to fire and kill a few more.

Knowing that it was probably a bad idea to try to shoot her, the guards formulated a plan. They fell back, but not for long. Two of the guards circled around to the back of the hut with a lighter and gasoline, setting the rear ablaze. Once Bernadetta was distracted by the smoke, two more guards pitched lit bottles of gasoline into the hut.

One of those bottles hit her, dousing her in the burning liquid. Every inch of her flesh wreathed in flames, blistering, peeling away. She collapsed to her knees, her inhuman screeching turning into grunts and groans, inarticulate. Her organs boiled in the sack of flesh she once was, including her brain. She fell to her side, finally released to the mercy of death.

Linhardt rose from the chesterfield, then padded to the sink to wash his face. Despite seeing her flesh bubbling, he couldn't quite feel it. For that, he was thankful. However, he wasn't thankful for having these visions as he could at least feel sympathetic pains to it. His skin itched.

“Are you done?”

Startled, Linhardt turned, “Yes, Hanneman. Turns out, Bernadetta was burned alive.”

“We have another corpse to attend to. Well, two. But we'll deal with them one at a time.”

\--  
TAOZFJPVCQWCLRXZNYENO   
\--

One-o-clock, Ferdinand washed his hair in the basin. It was rather late in the day, but he was on bereavement leave and he was indeed suffering from Hubert's absence. He combed through his ginger mane absentmindedly, such that any outside observer would believe that he would pull all his hair out far before he was done. As he finished, an odd sensation bubbled in his chest. He strode over to his medicine cabinet.

Two antacids later, he laid down on his bed to sleep it off. He barely closed his eyes when he heard his heart beating in his ears. What a weird sensation, that. Yet, something was off.

Three beats. A skip.

Four beats. A skip.

Five beats. Stop.


	6. Mercedes von Martritz

"You said there were two bodies. Where's the other one?"

"Well…" Hanneman clicked his tongue, "What remains of the other one is inside her stomach and in the other room. Yes, I started without you."

"You did?" Linhardt smiled, "Good! That means I don't have to weigh organs or cut into people."

"Oh no, I need you to weigh the flesh that was retrieved from her stomach. I saved that job for you." Hanneman laughed, "You're also going to test that material for poison. I suspect the one that was eaten was poisoned as to kill anyone that ate her."

"Great." Linhardt grabbed the pan containing the stomach contents. He gagged as he slopped them into a pre-weighed bag, then weighed the whole thing. Then, he scooped some into a toxicology tube. "There. Done."

"I'll run the tube down. You take your nap and see if you can't get another vision."

__  
-.. . .- .-. .-.. .. -. .... .- .-. -.. -   
__

"Those fucking things got Leonie! Raphael, did you grab her gun?" Hilda panted, panicked.

"No! You pulled me away, remember?"

"Right. Fuck. We need a gun." Hilda scrambled out the door of the hospital and into the car.

Raphael followed, patting around his seat for his concealed pistol. "Hilda, I can't find it. We need to drive to my house - I have some guns there." He peeled out of the parking lot, gunning it down the road.

"Raph! Speed limit!"

Raphael's car screeched to a near-halt, fully stopping at the red light. "Sorry, Hilda."

"Just get us there without getting a ticket or killing us."

"Hilda, please. You're making me panic!" He continued to wind down the highway from Derdriu, heading for the countryside where he lived. The green pastures and sparse farm houses were a welcome respite from the concrete jungle of Derdriu. The forest surrounding the highway grew thicker, which was Raphael's cue to watch for the utility road that led to his home.

"Raph! This is a logging road!" Hilda complained.

"I know. I live here. The loggers and I have an understanding."

Utility Road Number 7. A nondescript gravel road that snaked its way through the forest, dotted with logging trucks every kilometer. Hilda idly wondered how long Raphael's drive to and from work was. It was all she could do to keep the dark thoughts at bay.

"Just a little more. Here we are!"

The house was a shack, made of plywood and metal siding. Maybe it was once a mobile home. The lawn decorated with assorted mechanical parts, it was clear to Hilda that Raphael took car maintenance seriously enough to the detriment of literally everything else. She wondered if there was any form of climate control inside, or if it was just uncomfortable during the extreme seasons.

"I'll be right back. I'll grab two, one for each of us."

__  
-.-- --- ..- .-. . -. . -..- -   
__

"Are you Dr. von Essar? I'm Marianne von Edmund, the detective from Leicester. I'm here about the Azure Temple case. You said your assistant had visions related to this event?"

Hanneman nodded, "Yes, it's true. He's having a nap, which is how he has his visions."

Marianne patted a briefcase, "In here, I have a machine that measures brainwaves. I will hook this up to your assistant as he sleeps, so I can verify your claims. Lead me to them."

Hanneman motioned, "This way. He's on the couch. That's his favourite spot to nap."

They headed into the darkened break room, where Linhardt calmly snored. Marianne wasted no time hooking up the electrodes and the small cathode ray monitor. The machine burst to life, different colours of lines stretching across the screen.

"What's his name? I'll need to have it for archival purposes."

"Linhardt von Hevring."

Marianne connected the machine to a video cassette recorder on the TV trolley. Then, she used an input pad on the side of the screen to type in Linhardt's name. She started to record the scan.

"Hm. This is relatively new technology, and we don't know everything about the brain, but I am sure that there is an extra line. Right there, the one at the top. That shouldn't be there in a sleeping person."

__  
.-.. --- ...- . -.-. .- ... .--. .- .-.   
__

"It's the Blue Night. Annie, come on!"

Mercedes grasped Annette's hands, smiling bittersweetly.

"I'm scared. I know I agreed to sacrifice myself for this night, but I'm scared of dying." Annette took a deep breath, "I know that my body will be used to poison everyone else."

"I promise, I'll make it as painless as I can. I love you, Annie. I'll meet you in the afterlife." Mercedes brought the knife to Annette's throat, "Are you ready?"

Annette nodded, tears in her eyes. Mercedes brought the knife across Annette's throat, splashed with steaming blood. She painstakingly gutted and spiced Annette's corpse, then rubbed the poison into the flesh. She had syringes laying on the prep table to inject more poison into the meat.

"I'm sorry."

As Annette roasted over the flame, Mercedes injected the flesh with the toxin, then sliced a poisoned portion for herself. She did not wait for Annette to finish cooking before she ate. She closed her eyes, waiting for it to take effect.

Linhardt awoke from his dream, startled by the electrodes on his head. "What's all this?"

Marianne spoke first, "We wanted to verify that you were having these visions that Dr. von Essar had talked about."

"How did you sleep?"

"Well, Mercedes killed herself because she had to kill 'Annie', presumably the one who was partly eaten and stuck in the other room."

Hanneman looked down, "Yeah, sounds about right. Speaking of that body, we need to examine her."


End file.
